


[.touch]

by devilishMendicant



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/F, It's-A-Game Universe, Mildly Dubious Consent, Sayori/Monika Awareness Roleswap, and then they fucked., some light elements of unreality, top!Sayori
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 19:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30077439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilishMendicant/pseuds/devilishMendicant
Summary: Sayori picks Monika as her partner for the festival preparations!
Relationships: Monika/Sayori (Doki Doki Literature Club!)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. preparation

**Author's Note:**

> i wanted sayonika smut for my bday but as luck would have it i must write that myself so officially, from me to me, happy birthweek *party horn*
> 
> if you're uncomfortable with unclear consent dynamics then skip this one for safety  
> the sexual content (tm) happens in the second chapter  
> godspeed

Sayori is announcing plans for the club fair, and Monika is fidgeting.

She did help come up with them (didn’t she?) so there is, she feels, a good reason to be nervous about how the plans are received. She was, at one point, much braver than this - but now that there’s just two other people to please (Natsuki, ◼️◼️◼️ and Yuri) it seems much, _much_ more daunting, so much more _personal_ even though Sayori is handling the bulk of the explanation and offering the bulk of the platitudes. Truly, Monika is not currently doing much of anything at all, save standing still and looking very anxious.

“... and, you know - even if we _do_ get a jillion more club members,” Sayori is saying, lips slightly pursed in a response to Natsuki looking _rather_ indignant, “I still don’t think it’d end up changing too much. I mean, we all like reading and every club meeting we just, you know, sit down and read! Those are going to be the kind of people interested in a Literature club, right? And we’d still have to break into small groups to share poems, anyway, since it’d take hours to go through a ton one-on-one...”

“... ugh, fuck. You’re right,” Natsuki groans, letting her shoulders slouch down from their overly-defensive stance as Sayori trails off. “I _guess_ you have a point.”

“Plus,” Sayori says, quite firmly, “I’m the President and _I_ have the final say in who joins and who doesn’t, and if somebody decides they don’t want to play nice, then they won’t be coming back to another meeting. That’s that.”

(Monika fidgets a little harder, for reasons she can’t quite grasp.)

“Alright, alright. You sold me already,” Natsuki huffs. 

“... you _have_ presented a remarkably solid case.” Yuri admits, sighing. Sayori beams.

“Monika helped me put it together!”

“And let _you_ tell everyone in case we didn’t like it, huh?” Natsuki says, wryly - she grins, too, but all Monika notices is a baring of teeth.

“Well, mostly because I’m the President and I get to make the cool speeches. Part of the job,” Sayori replies coolly, stepping slightly forward and to the front of Monika. “Anyway, if we’re all in agreement—“

“Fine. Club fair it is.”

“Your proposal is amenable enough for me.”

~~”I don’t think you’d ever let me hear the end of it if I voted no, here...”~~

“Wonderful!” Sayori cheers - and, as planned, moves on to the required preparations. They map out to each of the members easily enough - Yuri has an eye (and the _flair,_ humble though she is) for atmosphere, so she’s certainly the proper choice for decoration, whereas Natsuki was _clearly_ going to be in charge of snacks, if the cupcakes from earlier this week were anything to go by. Sayori volunteered herself to complete the showcase and informational pamphlets almost before she finished explaining that there would be showcase and informational pamphlets, and that was...

... oh. That was everything.

Wait, what was she going to do?

Monika frowns at nothing - well, the floor, actually, but not because of anything it’s done to her, so the statement stands. This wasn’t exactly a large-scale event, so there weren’t exactly large-scale preparations like there had been (she thinks) in Debate club’s yearly appearances, where four or five people could be assigned to a single large-scale task - just one person could accomplish each of these things just fine, and there were three tasks and four people. 

~~”Oi, wait. What am I supposed to do, then?”~~

Maybe she could offer to... host someone’s creative endeavor? Her parents weren’t exactly _happy_ with her joining a frivolous club so close to her final year, but they did always seem more than glad to flaunt their massive excess - perhaps they’d allow her to invite someone over under the guise of showing off—

“Wait, you guys are gonna work together?”

“Yeah, sure. He’s got a decent kitchen and we can get everything done pretty fast if we have three people pitching in. What, got a problem with that, miss bestie?”

Or... not.

“What?! N-No, that’s fine, you guys do what you wanna do!” Sayori says quickly, waving her hands out in that universal sign for _”oh no no no no don’t you start that with me”_ \- coughing, she turns her head slightly. “Honestly, I’m just kinda surprised you and Yuri actually wanna hang out for that long.”

“I’m certain we’ll emerge alive, if not totally unscathed,” Yuri replies, a rare, soft laugh accompanying. “I certainly have no qualms with admitting Natsuki’s baking expertise far exceeds my own.”

“And fancy pants here definitely kicks my ass down the curb when it comes to calligraphy. Miss ‘I’m going to use a brush pen to write poetry’,” Natsuki deadpans, but the way her chest puffs out half an inch with pride - and Yuri’s light blush - betrays no ill intent behind the jab.

... well. Natsuki and Yuri getting along for once is _nice,_ yes, but - if they’re working together, that means that Monika’s vague idea of offering assistance is already right out. _Three_ people working together on _two_ rather individual tasks was simply a bit too much, and... well, Sayori probably didn’t need any help putting together a Word document.

Something in Monika’s chest crumples like paper as she realizes that, really, nobody actually needs her around for anyth 

“So I pick Monika, then!”

Monika startles, blinks in surprise - world un-blurring itself for a moment at Sayori’s declaration. Natsuki snickers.

“For what, a rousing game of softball? Aren’t you doing _flyers_ or whatever?”

“It’s still a creative project,” Sayori hmphs, “So I’m _going_ to need the input of my vice-president. It’s _important!”_

“... couldn’t you do that over e-mail, though?” Yuri points out, looking vaguely amused. 

“My e-mail address got lost in the void between time and space and I don’t have a phone because of aliens. Monika, you can come over to my house tomorrow and we can do this project together, okay?” 

Monika would probably have spent more time feeling incredibly embarrassed over the _look_ she is receiving from her clubmates, but then Sayori’s right in front of her and beaming and seeming so excited about working together with Monika, and, Monika _does_ really like hanging out with Sayori during club meetings, and

“Okay,” Monika is nodding before she even gets further than that. “What time do you want me to be there?”

“As early as possible! I mean, um. Like, ten maybe!”

~~”... oh my god, Sayori, _you’re_ not even up at ten.” ~~

“Um,” Sayori continues, ignoring the light commotion in the background as she peers over at Monika, “If... that’s okay with you?”

Monika doesn’t have any plans for the weekend. Monika _never_ has any plans for the weekend, not since (the fingers on her right hand twinge lightly as she grips her notebook a little harder) she’s had to drop out of varsity, and Sayori wants her to come over.

Sayori _wants_ her to.

“I can be there by ten,” she manages, feeling nearly dizzy as Sayori’s intent gaze pierces through her. “H-How about nine-forty?”

“It’s a deal, Veep!” Sayori grins - and Monika, flushed though she is, smiles right back.

“O-kay! _So,_ about those poems...”

* * *

(Monika arrives at Sayori’s house, nine-thirty-five in the morning, and feels bad about it for precisely seven seconds before Sayori swings the door wide open with the sunniest grin Monika has ever seen in her life.

_”Hello!”_

Sayori is exceptionally exuberant, Monika finds - _even_ at ten AM on a Saturday.)


	2. payoff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and then they fucked. (kinda)

“S-Sayori— Sayori, why—?” Monika stutters, looking up at Sayori - Sayori who has just pushed her over, gently, because Monika was much too surprised (and liked Sayori’s hands on her shoulders much too much) to resist, Sayori who is looking at her with a much, _much_ stranger gaze than even the usual.

“Because I really, really, _really_ like you,” Sayori says.

It’s not quite fair that Sayori is saying this leaning over Monika, flat on her back in her bed - Sayori’s hand has inched under Monika’s shirt, Sayori’s _hands,_ and Monika maybe might have would have should have said _something_ but feeling Sayori, feeling her warm soft hands pressing light against her stomach is making Monika’s focus blur like watercolor paint. Sayori is _touching_ her, even more than just grabbing her hand or hugging her or sitting in her lap, and Monika has no defense against the euphoria it elicits.

Sayori smiles, catching a glance of the dazed expression on Monika’s face - hums, pleased, fingertips tapping lightly in thought. 

“Actually, I think it’s more that I really, really, _really_ love you.” She says, matter of fact. “And I want to cuddle.”

(The tone running under her voice, making Monika shiver, says something a little more than the word _cuddle.)_

“But,” Monika mumbles, letting out a shuddering breath as Sayori’s palms splay, traveling up, up, slowly over her stomach and ribs and skin and leaving every nerve alight in her wake, “B-But, you’re— you’re a, h-haaah, _girl,”_

She doesn’t intend, exactly, for it to sound so much like a question - or a whimper - but Sayori just smiles and makes a sound low and deep as she leans down further towards Monika’s face. 

“Aww, have you only gotten confessions from _boys,_ before?” She murmurs, the lilt at the end of her question both rhetorical and soothing. “That’s okay, you know. Us being girls means we’ll fit together even better.” 

Monika tries very hard to rack her memory, or what’s left of it. _Has_ she only been confessed to by boys? It would explain the nervous turn in her stomach despite the absolutely wondrous feeling that Sayori’s hands are leaving in her _bones_ and she thinks, now that she thinks about it, yes, that must be it, why this was so new and so foreign. 

“W-We will?”

Everything in Monika’s mind is - blurry, at _best,_ on a _normal_ day where Sayori is not moving her hands at 4cm per second over every inch of Monika’s skin she can find, but, she really could swear that she’s had at least one single health class and seen one single illustrative rendering of, um, _fitting together_ \- but she doesn’t move away from Sayori’s hands and she waits to hear whatever answer Sayori wants to give her.

“Mm, of course. We’re both girls,” Sayori says, as if she was reciting a truth from on high, “So when we fit together, it’ll feel like this,”

And, illustratively, she lowers her face to press into Monika’s neck, her _lips,_ lets her hands roam beneath the lowest layer of clothing Monika is dressed with and Monika’s entire mind goes _blank,_ let alone blurry.

“The whole time,” Sayori purrs into Monika’s throat. 

Monika means to reply with an _“Oh,”_ but what actually manages to escape her is a moan.

“See? Much better than _anything_ else you could come up with,” Sayori giggles, moving her hands away from _there_ but pushing back beneath Monika’s shoulders still steals all her breath away. “Nothing like... hmm... what _is_ it you think about when you’re alone, anyway?”

_Not much,_ Monika thinks, blearily. The feeling in her head goes heavy once again, this way and that without her input like someone else’s hand is digging through her chest of drawers looking for, 

“... well, anyway, if you _did_ ever think about something like that,” Sayori says. “Gosh. I guess this is all that’s going to be in your head now, huh?”

That sounds rather accurate. Monika is probably going to be thinking about the way Sayori’s hands feel until the day she dies, let alone specifically to, uhh, Yuri would say to _comfort herself in the odd hours of the night_ and Sayori’s face is hovering over her own again and she’s grinning, so - Monika smiles back, hesitantly.

“God, you’re cute,” Sayori says, eyes glittering and hungry and stealing every instant’s image of Monika they possibly could grab. “I’m taking off your shirt.”

“A-Ah— aren’t we...” Monika _tries_ to think, to say, tongue clumsy and slow in her mouth as she watches Sayori’s hands retreat from her body (no come back) and grasp at the hem of her shirt, pushing it up with intent. “We’re supposed to... there’s... for the club fair...”

“Monnie,” Sayori sighs - the same manner of tone one would use to witness the antics of a small dog, perhaps, barking at a leaf falling past the window - “Making pamphlets is going to take twenty minutes. _This,”_

And with one motion too fluid to follow, yanks Monika’s shirt over her head and off her wrists.

“Is why I asked you to come here for the day.”

Any possible withering that could have started in Monika’s (nearly-bare) chest is immediately, _utterly,_ drowned away by Sayori’s hands cupping around Monika’s arms, palms sliding slowly, gently, intently up to her shoulders as Monika releases a gasping whine.

“Alright?”

Sayori’s fingers trail around to the back of Monika’s neck, soft, pushing up and fingernails softly skimming the line of her scalp, humming appreciatively as she leans to press nose and lips to the dip above Monika’s chest.

“This is _really_ what I needed my vice president for,” she says, sounding like a whisper in the ghost of her breaths, “My soft, precious, sweet vice president Monika. You didn’t really want to go with those ~~three~~ anyway, did you?” 

Monika shakes her head absently, trembling hands reaching to settle tentatively behind Sayori’s back - no, she never did really want to go with the other two - when did Sayori take off her own shirt? - Natsuki and Yuri probably would have ignored her and all she wants is Sayori’s attention and here Sayori is, giving her nothing at all but. That’s what she wants, that’s what she’s _always_ wanted - why she decided to join a club about poetry despite her parents’ admonishment - why she couldn’t tear her gaze away from Sayori despite the way she looked through Monika as if she could see everything that was beating underneath. 

Maybe she could. A - shudder, a tight quiver of something runs through every nerve in Monika’s body at the thought of Sayori peeling away _everything,_ rubbing her hands over Monika and pulling layer after layer after layer away from her bones and seeing every breath, every heartbeat, watching every neuron fire as Monika lays beneath her.

“No, you didn’t,” Sayori murmurs into her skin, “You never did. You wanted to come with me. You want me to know you, want me to hold you, pet you and tell you how much _I_ want _you_ to be here,”

Monika shivers again, moans weakly as Sayori’s mouth presses open and hot against her, lowers to a scant inch between them.

“Mmm... you want me to want you. So much you didn’t really think about it when I said, mmhm,” a smirk, “Pamphlets are a two-person job. You just wanted to be here. You didn’t think about it, you just nodded. You just came.”

She really didn’t think about it. 

“And now you’re here and I’m here and I’m giving you everything you’ve ever wanted, and all you have to do is lie down and let me touch you, let me tell you everything you’ve ever wanted me to tell you,”

Monika’s breath comes in stutters, in pants - one of Sayori’s hands still petting pleasantly, mind-meltingly at the back of Monika’s neck and the other now pushing slowly, gently, pulling Monika’s skirt down and out of the way.

“And I’ve _seen_ the way you look at me when I call you a good girl.”

Oh - _oh_ —

_”My_ good girl.”

Monika loses her hazy grasp on thought entirely as Sayori’s body presses against her own - so warm and all encompassing and overwhelming she could sob, and she does, she thinks, as Sayori’s hands roam lower to places she’s never, never, _never_ felt someone’s hands before, much less soft and petting hands, much less _Sayori’s_ hands, body, warmth, rising breath. Speaking words into the gentle swell of her stomach, words like _’I love you,’_ words like _’you’re so special to me,’_ calling her precious and wonderful and loved, calling her Sayori’s and Sayori’s and _Sayori’s_ and if belonging to Sayori meant this she was never anybody else’s, not even her own. 

Sayori says they fit together perfectly and they do, they _must,_ because Monika can’t _think_ when Sayori pulls her close and buried her face in her neck and slots them together, clothes discarded and forgotten and electric sparks flitting where they touch and where they touch is _everywhere._ Sayori’s arms are around her back and her legs are tangled with Monika’s own and Monika can barely breathe, tears mingling with shuddering gasps mingling with the gentle circles Sayori rubs into her back, soothing, the flutter of her eyelashes against Monika’s chest, heart ricocheting so hard against her ribcage she _knows_ Sayori can feel it. Every inch, every single centimeter either one of them moves sends so much foreign input up Monika’s spine that she can’t help the noise she makes, the sputter of another helpless sob over Sayori’s head as she shushes her and coos comfort into her skin, words that jam the gears in Monika’s mind from processing any further than _I love you, I need you, you’re precious - you’re_ **_mine,_ ** keep her from moving any more than a desperate twitch even further into her arms. If she died right now, cardiac arrest, there would be no god’s creation that could hope to match the sensation of this - of heaven _or_ of hell.

Sayori’s hand moves, again, and presses. Only presses, palm cupped - almost _comforting,_ warmth and firm and protected, somehow, Sayori’s fingers stay pressed together and against her and the feeling dripping into Monika’s bones like treacle is gentling and maddening in exactly equal measure, hand over hand over hand. Sayori doesn’t even move, doesn’t rub against her, and Monika surely can’t push into her either; she just murmurs comfort into her neck, free hand tracing nonsense patterns lovingly over her shoulders and back, and Monika wants Sayori’s hand to stay between her legs like this forever or maybe at least for a century - more soothing than erotic, so trusting the idea of anything more barely surfaces in Monika’s mind. This is all there needs to be; nothing more, and surely again nothing less.

“It’s okay, Monnie,” Sayori’s words and Sayori’s heat and Sayori’s overwhelming presence filter into Monika like splashes of separate color into deep water, taking their time to mix slowly into some semblance of a cohesive whole. “You can let go. You can let it out.”

A quivering breath, sucked in humid.

“I want you to. It’s cute. _You’re_ cute.”

“W—W, we— we’re j, just,” Monika, _tries_ to say, whisper, all the words caught somewhere in her chest and throat and tongue - _we’re just cuddling._ They _are._ The most Sayori has done is press her hand between Monika’s legs in a manner more _protective_ than provocative, not even dipping her fingers into the wet dribbling onto her palm, and yet all Monika can do is squeeze her eyes shut as Sayori hushes her gently again.

“That’s okay. You’re allowed to,” she says, so softly that Monika feels it more than hears it. “I _want_ you to.”

A tight quiver runs from the top of Monika’s head, down to the tip of the very end of her toes.

“I told you we’d fit perfectly,” Sayori whispers, “I told you how much better it’d feel than anything else. I _want_ you to cum, Monika.”

Breath out. Hot. Wanting. Sayori’s or Monika’s?

“Please. I’ll catch you.”

Breath in. Stuttering, warm - legs trembling, arms curled tight around her back.

_Please hold me like this,_ Monika wants to say but can’t, Monika needs to say but can’t, _Please cuddle like this with me forever,_

Sayori smiles against her, traces a delicate heart right over her spine.

“We’ll cuddle as much as you want.”

And the breath cooed over Monika’s skin causes a stutter, a start - and it slips out of her grasp, high moan escaping her as she falls over the tip of the peak, squirming desperately into Sayori’s cupped hand and the (non-)privacy it offers—

_”Good girl,”_ Sayori praises, and Monika _weeps_ as she loses the last of her footing, tumbles all the rest of the way down, leaks all the last of her resistance into her waiting palm. _”My_ good girl.”

(And Sayori keeps her promise - they cuddle, Monika limp and pliant with aftershocks, utterly needy even still, just as long as she wants.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> monika has rsd and rre because i said so, and im writing the stories here, so too bad


End file.
